


Lead Me Lord and Never Leave My Side

by JayMitchell



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, angst as inspired by tumblr text posts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 15:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19397326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayMitchell/pseuds/JayMitchell
Summary: Aziraphale may have doubts, but he hasn't openly questioned the Ineffable Plan. Until now, a day into Armageddon.(Event reversal, and an adaptation of a famous monologue directed at God.)





	Lead Me Lord and Never Leave My Side

**Author's Note:**

> This is the "Aziraphale escapes discorporation but finds a puddle of demon goo in Crowley's apartment" scenario, as angstfully shared here https://thatgeeklover.tumblr.com/post/185760627819/okay-but-imagine-if-aziraphale-dodged-the-portal. Thought it would be nice to have another M.Sheen go at the epic Two Cathedrals monologue from The West Wing. (https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=1073158249527919). Translation of the Latin part of the monologue comes from this website (http://westwing.bewarne.com/discontinuity/languages.html).
> 
> Would recommend to watch the said monologue to get a feel of the emotions. Aaron Sorkin wrote that monologue (the ones underlined), I clumsily adopted it for angst.

**He sought an audience with Her.**

He had hoped there was still something they could do to stop Armageddon from happening. The Book had guided him to where. A man's voice had confirmed it. All the two of them had to do was to go to Tadfield and to stop the boy. He wasn't clear on the how yet, but  surely  the two of them could think of something. As they have always done, all this time. After all, it could  be considered  as a part of their Arrangement, as the end result would be  mutually  beneficial to them.

When his frantic call  was sent  to Crowley's voicemail, Aziraphale  practically  flew to his apartment  .  This whole business of the Armageddon and how to stop it was far too urgent to  be left  unnoticed under a blinking red light .

Aziraphale could deal with Crowley stressing about the Antichrist. After all, it was but a few days ago did they find out he had gone missing. There was still time to stop him.

If they worked together.

Nothing prepared him for what he saw though. Not even the evils of humanity over the span of battles and wars fought could ever prepare him for such a sight.

It knocked the senses out of him.

A voice tells him it's his fault.

Once outside, he walked  aimlessly  in the rain. It was soft at first, but as the image continued to take hold of his thoughts, the rain seemed to fall down on him harder.

His every step taunted him - _itwasyourfault, itwasyourfault, itwasyourfault, itwasyourfault_. He knew back then; this would happen, which was why he didn't want to give it in the first place.

Didn't Crowley tell him loud and clear that he needed Holy Water "for insurance"? That should the truth come out, he needed something to save himself? Was this whole mess that great to  be ignored  by hell that he had thought there was no escape?

Aziraphale once mentioned the  strongly  worded note from Gabriel about his fanciful miracles. Crowley replied that his lot didn't exactly do the same. Crowley, no matter how relaxed and nonchalant he appeared to be, still feared Hell's wrath. He feared it so much, that he would  willingly  seek the quickest way out, rather than to suffer in the hands of his fellow demon.

Crowley had asked him to come with him, to the stars, to Alpha Centauri, to be away from this whole damned business.

Instead, Aziraphale, led him to his death.

Eventually, his wandering steps led him to the front doors of St. Paul's Cathedral. Or was he gently nudged to this place?

**He asked for an audience with Her.**

He walked  quietly  \- or at least tried to - down the aisle.

He tried his very best; to still be reverential to the majesty and grandeur that was expected of this place, and as expected of who, or even what, he was.

Oh, but She was making it hard.

(He doesn't bother to miracle away the remnants of the rain on him. He lets the drops fall into the cathedral floor.)

Armageddon was to  be brought  here, on this fragile Earth.  The Earth they had grown to love and appreciate millennia after millennia was to become a battleground for the war between Heaven and Hell .

Why did She bother to create this in the first place?

(His footfall seems to grow louder.  He notices people still praying, either lifting their eyes to the heavens in praise or looking down to the depths of the ground in shame . He sees a whole lot of them imploring the empty altar before them.

Oh, if only they knew.)

He had  quietly  acknowledged the Ineffable Plan as something that Was Bound To Happen. It was something they all _knew_ , and yet somehow, _did not know_. As angels, they are to do the proper thing and be ready when called upon. Surely, She did not create something so that it would  be destroyed  to nothing?

(The puddles formed from the rain are still somehow clear.)

(The puddle formed from the Holiest of Waters however, leaves a mark.)

That was the very thing Aziraphale could not understand. Why was another war needed? Was it not clear in the first great war  as to  who remained and who chose to wander off? Was not the very first war suffice to draw the lines between Us and Them?

Us. And them.

He had lived on this Earth for so long, that he must admit, he no longer knew what that plan was all about. After all, what was this Earth meant to be?

(Some had said She had meant it to be a do-over after the first great war. Those who came down to see it could only shrug and sneet at the... Imperfection.)

He had always tried to accept, tried to understand.  He had always believed in the Ineffable Plan, that there will come a time when their side will finally triumph.

But over what exactly?

He remembers how Heaven is like, long before some fell. It was...

It was...

White. It was wide and white and everyone and anyone knew who you were.

You could not hide.

(The Garden was perfect. It had things that grew and things that moved and all the other things angels didn't think  highly  of. He thought that was what made it perfect.)

He looks up.  Cathedrals almost always looked the same, with some dome that  was meant  to represent the heavens  . He thought it was silly, but for once, they were right. It  was meant  to be a divide between this and wherever She was.

A divide, from what they think they knew, and what she wanted - whatever it was.

He has had enough.

A snap of his fingers, and all at once, everyone made it for the exits.

**He desired an audience with Her.**

His eyes could not glow, but if it did, it was out of anger. He  was tired  , and scared, but  mostly  \- a rage that he could no longer contain. He clenched his fists, a small part of him still being afraid of what he might do at that very moment. He closed his tries, tried to breathe in some sense of peace, however small it was, as if it could still help.

Oh, but it could not. It would not.

HIs eyes, if they could, glowed with white, hot rage.

"You're a son of a bitch, you know that?" he directed it to the open. His voice barely containing the disbelief that had burdened his heart, of a faith that tried it's best to stay true.

No one was listening, but he was sure She was.

Good. She should listen.

Step by small step, makes his way to the altar.

"We only wanted to live  peacefully  here, on this place you have created. What, was that supposed to be funny?" he draws in a deep breath, but refused to unclench his fists. " _You can't conceive, nor can I, the appalling strangeness of the mercy of God,_ " says Graham Greene. I don't know whose ass he was kissing there, 'cause  I think  you're  just  vindictive."

He feels his eyes burn, but again, they do not glow. His eyes sting with the tears he was fighting from falling down his cheeks.

"What was Crowley, a warning shot?" 

He was my best friend! 

He was my only friend."

Aziraphale looks down on the ground.

He tries to steady his breathing. This body of his, it strains to contain the emotions he's feeling all at once. Still, he refuses to give Her the satisfaction of whatever a powerful being might feel when a servant is almost quivering in fear.

"The Antichrist has discovered his powers," he continues.  Perhaps  , if he confronts Her with facts, She would listen and do something, for once. " Gabriel and everyone up there says we have to prepare for war. One thousand, twenty-six. That's how many people are in that quaint village of Tadsfield.  People who have been living  quietly  for years, way before the Antichrist  was raised  in their midst  . Compared to London, that's quite a small number of people." 

He  suddenly  remembers that day, him trying not to worry about the oncoming storm. How She had instructed Noah to build an ark for his family and a few chosen animals. He remembers how Crowley  was shocked  for the very same reasons he was. "  All of  them?" he had asked, and no amount of rainbows could replace the fact that clueless people were about to die.

"And they have no idea what is about to happen."  Aziraphale whispers, as if these words  were left  over and had  just  spilled from a remnant of a conversation so many years ago .

Aziraphale looks up again, this time letting the rage boil and overpower him.

" _Gratias tibi ago, domine._ (Thank you, Lord.)

Yes, I fraternized with him. Was that a sin? I've committed many sins. Have I displeased you, you feckless thug? Made a few miracles, that wasn't good?" 

The memories come rushing back. Of those first few days in the garden, of him being the unexpected guardian of the eastern gate. Was he  being punished  now?

"Or were you pissed at me giving the sword to Adam and Eve those many years ago - SHE WAS EXPECTING!"  he  angrily  jabs his chest with his fingers, wishing to carry the burden of stopping Armageddon himself  . " My sword protected them after you punished them - that's not enough to buy me out of the dog house?" 

Aziraphale raises his arms, pointing them at the dome, to nothing in particular - though in his mind's eye it's clear  as to  who he was calling to . His voice finding the strength to raise them high, not in praise, but in condemnation.

_"Haec credam a deo pio, a deo justo, a deo scito?_ (Am I to believe these things from a righteous god, a  just  god, a wise god?)

_Cruciatus in crucem!_ (To hell with your punishments!)"

Only then does he realize that he had his wings out, that he had flown to face the cross himself, letting his disbelief and abandonment be known.

Only then does he descend, ever so slowly, back to the floor. He looks up, trying his best to be the humble angel once more.

But his heart finds it heavy to do so.

 _"Tuus in terra servus, nuntius fui; officium perfeci. _ (I was your servant, your messenger on the earth; I did my duty.)

_Cruciatus in crucem! E as in crucem ! _ (To hell with your punishments! And to hell with you!)"

Aziraphale finds himself to be alone, once again. But at least, he is free. 

Alpha Centauri may be far away, but Tadfield is closer. He fixes himself, and deeply breathes in. He turns, sharply, and starts to walk to the exit.

Aziraphale made up his mind.

At the very least, for Crowley, he could defy this so-called Ineffable Plan. Or die trying.


End file.
